


The Golden Bubble

by pointyhats



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: ... kind of, Beards (Relationships), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-19 01:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15499023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pointyhats/pseuds/pointyhats
Summary: An unusual situation forces Hecate to enter an arrangement she never wished for herself. And she goes through with it, playing the game with ease.That is, until a new arrival leads to a change of the rules.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story I've written in a really long time, so I'm not sure how that'll go. I'm posting this mostly to test the waters.  
> Hope you like it!

With a plastic smile, Hecate lifts the glass to her lips and nods – head tilted and eyes kind in understanding.

It’s an act, but the woman in front of her seems clueless. She keeps talking, spilling personal details of her life that Hecate wishes she didn’t have to know. Well, too late for that. 

She finds it almost funny how she can hold her own in environments like this, putting on this character and handling situations in way she wouldn’t usually be able to, as much as she tried.

But it’s routine by now. She smiles and offers a few looks of sympathy. Maybe some words of encouragement to go along with hushed sounds and soft touches, to simulate whatever she wants people to think she is feeling. 

And that does the trick.

Hecate had never thought fooling people would be so easy. But after two years married to Henry, having to constantly pretend not only to be charmed by him, but also deeply in love, she was basically an actress.

Thankfully, he isn’t here now. Went on some fancy trip to deal with business – to handle his investments, as he said. And she is glad for that – for not being expected to let his hand fall on her hip or feel his beard scratch her skin as he pecks her cheek. 

She knows he doesn’t want to do any of that, but one of the biggest differences between the two of them was that the man needs to show off in a way that is barely healthy. Loves the stares he gets by walking with a shiny toy on his arm, communicating to the world that he is well-off, that somehow he should be envied.

That’s one more thing she had always hated about the arrangement. Above all, she despises being here, playing this role – behaving like the good, obedient young woman her parents expect her to be, like a trophy for a man to put on his shelf and display to his audience.

There is a reason she married him, and it wasn’t only because he was her friend, nor because there weren’t other options. But Hecate knew he was safe, in a way none of the others were – that he would never feel anything towards her the same way she’d never have feelings for a man.

Both did it for the money that would surely come after three years of being married. That, also dependant on good behaviour from her part – courtesy of her grandparents. It was… tiresome. Frustrating. Degrading.

But she needs that money. Not even for frivolous reasons, but for her own freedom. And, breathing deeply, that’s what she reminds herself as the woman walks away. Tries to remember what she repeats in times like this – that it will all be worth it.

And still, she hates it all. Hates the colorful dress that clungs a bit too much to her hips. Hates the intricate details on her hair, with all those pins. Hates the looks she keeps getting – eyes that take too long, roaming over her body without a drop of reticence, as if they they had the right to stare as much as they wanted and she had none to complain. 

Hates feeling like such an imposter, full of fake smiles and articulations of feelings that simply weren’t there. Hates not having the power to leave this behind and move on with her life, at least not yet. 

But her feelings won’t change anything. And so, she pushes them down.

When the art exhibition is over, she plasters the smile on her face once more – curving her lips and letting the fake giddiness reflect on her eyes. Gives her goodbyes and walks towards her car, parked a few meters away.

She is almost there when the voice reaches her. She keeps herself from turning around, but her steps become slower.

Hecate doesn’t have to look to know what she’d find if she did. Pippa would be there, with a beautiful woman drapping herself around her and that pleasant grin that she loosely threw around. She doesn't have to look at her to know it would hurt, but she feels the pain anyway.

It’s hard to decide if she wants to be like Pippa – the girl who had been her friend once, the one who wasn’t hiding – or if she wants to be one the woman in her arms. If she’s being honest, probably both.

She doesn’t love her – doesn’t even think she likes her. But it hurts seeing someone having the life she wishes was hers, what she could have if she was a little luckier. Even though Pippa is a stranger now, her heart gets heavy when she remembers the promises of friendship they’d made years ago – all the expectations they had for life, how Pippa had gotten there and she hadn’t.

When she reaches her car and walks to the driver’s side, the woman finally comes into view. And surprisingly, she is staring. The pair of brown eyes follow her as she unlocks the door, darker eyes staring back.

There’s something, a message Hecate can’t quite grasp.

And then Pippa untangles her arms from the woman she was holding, excuses herself and goes back inside.

After pretending to check her purse and announcing aloud that she’s lost her phone, she does as well.

And that’s how everything starts to crash down.


	2. Appearances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After many years, Hecate and Pippa exchange a few words and it becomes clear how much things have changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the response to the first chapter, I appreaciate it.  
> Hope you enjoy this one.

The room is empty.

Apart from a couple of cleaners who come and go, there’s no one to be seen. There are chairs huddled on the corner and most of the lights are already out, creating the kind of ambiance that would be ideal for a horror movie.

She turns to the paintings, eyes wandering from one to another without much interest. Her shoes are squeezing her feet, and she can’t wait to take them out. But she waits.

The clock ticks a few times and Hecate thinks about going back. She was foolish to follow Pippa here – to believe that, for some odd reason, she was expected to come and look for her.

 Still, she wonders where she could be, too aware of the foolish part of her that wishes to see Pippa again. The answer comes in the shape of a familiar voice followed by the sound of heels echoing through the lodge, coming from behind her.

“Hecate.” the woman greets her, even before she can think to move.

It’s hard to ignore the difference – not to compare how that voice lacks the warmth it once held when addressing her. Pippa doesn’t sound harsh, much less impolite. Her tone is firm, formal – hollow, just like the one Hecate uses when talking to someone she doesn’t particularly care about.

“Pippa.” she says slowly, trying to match her etiquette, her neck turning as the woman walks to stand beside her.

The pair stays there, in silence. Hecate pretends to be looking at a painting on the wall, but she barely registers what she is seeing. Her muscles are getting tense, and she knows it’s starting to show – shoulders higher than they should and arms stiff, like a robot.

Dealing with strangers was one thing, and it surely hadn’t prepared her for that.

“It has been… a long time.” Pippa lets out without looking at her, raising her chin as she speaks.

“It has.”

She wants to look at her, to see the lines on her face – to read Pippa like she used to. But her head doesn’t move, and neither do her eyes.

“How have you been?” Pippa insists, and it’s not easy to notice the strain on her voice her voice; but it’s there.

Hecate’s shoulders descend, the tightness around her neck easing little by little. The small change in Pippa’s behavior gives her enough confidence to engage.

“I’ve been well.” she retorts without thinking. Before Pippa can say anything else, she adds “The exposition was pleasant” and then “Beautiful.”

As if to clarify, she stumbles over her words once more, but finally settles on saying “The art is lovely.”

Sharp, press on nails dig into the palm of her hand, racing thoughts clashing inside her mind in a frantic dance Hecate should be able to handle by now. Her eyes become unfocused for a second – maybe less – until a movement from her companion brings them back. Before Hecate can gauge how to proceed, she feels it – Pippa is looking at her.

It’s troubling how vulnerable she feels under her gaze. And for that, it takes Hecate a few seconds to move her feet and stand facing the other woman – whose presence seems lighter, albeit still distant.

If she didn’t know better, she’d say Pippa is holding back a chuckle. But she is tired and the woman in front of her is not the same teenager who used to drag her around and give her silly nicknames. And for that, she supposes she is wrong.

“And you?” she asks after a long pause, uncertain. Her fingers start to play with the strap of her purse, but she stills them. The first rule is to appear calm, always.

In spite of all the openness and vehemence Hecate has linked her with, Pippa looks just as guarded as her; but she manages to sound steady.

“Life has been good. I’m on break from work, but I plan on going back soon. Until then, I’m taking care of personal matters”.

It’s hard to tell whether they are competing to see who keeps the eye contact going or to decide who avoids it the most. The air between them seems heavy, and Hecate wishes she knew how to subdue the strain, but Pippa doesn’t seem willing to help with that.

There’s an urge to go back to her car, lock herself in and drive until she forgets. The pull is strong – more than enough to make her briefly consider it. But Pippa is too close, and she doesn’t think she can run away now.

The words of an old woman replay on her mind, like she is used to. Hecate remembers what she had been told, way before any of this mess. Remembers hearing how she was naive and young – not quite hardened enough.

Her old tutor was cruel – the last person Hecate would turn to for help. But she wasn’t blind. Hecate still remembered how good Miss Broomhead was at uncovering people’s weaknesses and forcing them out, ripping and breaking whatever she could until there was nothing left.

Sometimes, it scares her to think of how much has been broken, of how much there is still left; but it’s not a thought she can voice.

She wonders if being here, glued to the ground, unable to get away from someone who clearly belongs in her past, proves that – how weak her heart truly is.

Hecate tries to imagine an older, less expectant version of herself and envision what she would do in her place, but reaches no conclusion. Letting her full attention fall on Pippa, she resumes their chatter.

“That seems promising.”

Even though her enthusiasm is supposed to be fake, it unsettles her to realize that it isn’t.

“Have you been doing anything?” Pippa sounds curious, almost relaxed this time, and the squint on her brown eyes softens. “I haven’t heard much.”

“I’m married.” Hecate says curtly, dragging her voice up and down in a way that hurts her throat. It comes out too quickly, too heavily, as if she was declaring war on someone. But Pippa doesn’t seem offended by that.

In fact, she looks horrified.

Her eyes are wide and lips parted, with a tightness on her forehead that wasn’t there before. There’s distaste and confusion, plus something else that Hecate doesn’t recognize. The woman’s body jolts. She seems ready to grab Hecate by the shoulders, shake her and ask what on earth possessed her to do that – to marry someone.

She fixes her eyes on her and lets out a short breath instead. The curiosity is evident, Hecate can see it. The aversion hasn’t left her face either, but Pippa still looks somewhat composed. Her voice, not as much.

“ Since when are you married?” the sound that comes vaguely reminds her of a hiss.

Hecate stands quietly, looking right into her eyes this time, drinking in each reaction. She doesn’t want to admit, but it’s enjoyable to see Pippa like that – making faces and demanding explanations, as if she cared. As wrong and selfish it may be, she likes the illusion.

“It has been two years” the harshness of her voice gets stronger, betraying her once more. Talking about her fake marriage is not a safe topic to discuss, especially not with Pippa.

The woman in front of her looks lost, speechless. But it doesn’t last and the mask comes back sooner than expected.

“Well, congratulations, Hecate. I’m happy for you.” her eyes seem even harder than before, eyebrows stuck in place.

Hecate tries to bring back her public persona. Tries to smile – and fails. Before she can thank her, the woman is asking who she is married to.

And she tells her – Henry Darksky.

“Oh.”

Hecate arches an eyebrow.

“Does that surprise you?” she pushes her shoulders back, stretching her neck to stand taller.

“Yes.” the answer comes instantly.

“Any reason for that, Miss Pentangle?” she inquires bleakly, taking a step forward. Hecate asks herself if that’s how Pippa sees her now, as someone frigid and unpleasant to the point of being incapable of having companionship – unlovable, as she’s been told.

Pippa is at loss for words, but she stands her ground. Seeming to consider the options, her hands come together, fingers intertwining as she speaks.

“It’s… unexpected. That’s all.”

Even though she is a stranger now, it’s easy to read her this time – the lie is written all over her face.

“Are you happy, Hecate?” she blurts. Judging by the flash of shock that washes over her face, Hecate guesses she hadn’t intended to ask out loud.

Pippa comes even closer, invading her personal space and making her step back. Intended or not, the question sounds daring, like a challenge.

Before she can give her an answer, Pippa’s cell phone rings. She dives her hand on her bag and wheezes as she struggles to silence it. Holding out her hand, she asks nonchalantly “Your phone, please.”

Hecate hesitates and Pippa grows impatient, shaking her arm to emphasize her point. Hecate complies as slowly as she can, doubtful. The smaller woman is ready to open her mouth and repeat the request when her phone startles them both for the second time.

She grunts. Without waiting for Hecate to handle her the object, Pippa takes the cell phone from her hand and fumbles with it. A few clicks, and she gives it back.

Pippa is about to leave when she stops and just stands there, for way longer than necessary. In slow movements, she raises her chin and resets her stance – letting it go back to how it was before, proper and imposing.

Sparing her one more glimpse, she says “Goodbye, Hecate” and walks away, leaving her alone in a deserted art gallery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave suggestions (or anything else), if you want.  
> I'll probably find a few mistakes and edit them out myself, but criticism is always welcome.  
> See you on chapter three!


	3. Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippa speaks, Hecate listens.

The moonlight crawls through the gap on the window, flooding the living-room with a glow that makes it look almost ethereal. Hecate shifts on the couch, reaching for the remote control and leaving the wine glass on the side table.

When her phone rings, she merely ignores it. Hecate turns the volume down and lets herself sink on the cushions, taking a moment to enjoy the comfort before getting up and heading to the kitchen. Her hands are on the fridge handle when the cell phone rings again, on the counter right beside her. She sees the name on the screen and considers turning it off.

Hecate lays her hand on the surface and drags it toward the device. With reluctance, she brings it to her ear and swipes the green button.

“Hello, darling.”

There’s something different in the woman’s voice that is hard to identify. She sounds oddly weightless, maybe even playful, just like the old Pippa. For a moment, Hecate wonders if she hasn’t been called by accident.

“Pippa?” She tries to sound casual. “Hi.”

“How are you, Hecate?”

There’s music on the background, and it takes a moment for Hecate to understand the words, the feeling of uneasiness only getting stronger. 

“I’m... good.” Hecate starts to walk back to the living-room. “And you?” 

The answer doesn't come right away. Hecate seats herself on the edge of the couch and taps her fingers on her knee to kill time. She tries to imagine Pippa going to a nightclub, pulling her friends to the dancefloor and insisting on terrible moves – in that rowdy way that is surprisingly endearing.

There are giggles coming from her phone. A shaky voice answers without hesitation.

“Doing great, darling.”

She sighs loudly, suddenly aware of the problem. 

“Pippa, are you drunk?”

The woman chuckles. The sound is uncoordinated and there’s no humor on it, but Hecate knows the voice well enough to perceive the attempt. 

“Does it matter?” 

Hecate throws her head back and falls on the couch with a groan. 

“God, Hecate.” Pippa scolds her, sounding almost sober for once. “Still as grumpy as ever.”

She grits her teeth, trying to stay silent for long enough to make out the mix of sounds on the line. After filtering out the music and the muffled words coming from a possible crowd, she swears Pippa is refilling her own glass. Not one for games, Hecate tries a different approach.

“Do you need anything?”

Pippa seems to shake the glass, and Hecate can envision the ice cubs going back and forth. 

“Yeaaah.” She draws the word. “I need lots of things.”

Hecate exhales, turning to lay on her belly, legs intertwining on the air as she ponders how to get the woman to take her seriously.

“Anything I can help you with?” She presses.

“Ah, definitely.”

Despite knowing how likely it is that Pippa is drunk, Hecate can’t think of any way to read the words other than as an innuendo. And, as pathetic as it might be, she feels her heart gain speed.

With another sigh, not truly meaning it this time, Hecate asks again.

“What do you want, Pippa?”. Before the woman can say anything else, she warns her. “Don’t test my patience, I won’t ask again.”

A snort comes from Pippa’s side, but when she speaks there’s softness on her voice.

“Darling... don’t you know?”

She doesn’t know why Pippa is even asking her that when the answer is so obvious. Hecate hasn’t seen the woman in years, of course she doesn’t know details about her life – how could she?

Instead of answering, she goes back to one of her first questions.

“Are you drunk, Pippa?”

There’s a pause. The music is the only thing assuring her that Pippa hasn’t hung up. 

“Took you long enough.” She says, as if it isn’t the second time Hecate brings it up. There’s mockery on her voice. Not the kind that is playful, nor friendly – but the kind that is looking for a fight, for a confrontation that Hecate is not willing to give her.

“I have no time for this. If you want to talk, call again when you are sober.”

“As if you woul–” 

She interrupts her.

“Goodnight Pippa.”

Hecate hangs up, the muscles on her neck tensing when her finger presses the button to end the call, expecting to be quick enough to avoid hearing anything else Pippa might have to tell her. It’s all too much. Pippa can call her when she is sober, if she decides to do so – and Hecate doesn’t think she will. 

The disappointment that comes with the thought confuses her. She should be relieved. Pippa hasn’t been a part of her life for ages, and considering that they aren’t on the best terms, it seems wise to let things stay as they are. But that doesn’t stop the pang on her heart – that old nostalgia that she hates.

She throws her phone on her couch and slides off it, until she is sitting on the floor. The movie playing on the screen doesn’t sound as appealing now and when she tastes the wine, it’s bland. A part of her wants to reach out, to return the call and scold Pippa’s friends for letting her get in such state; but she knows she has no right. 

The phone rings just as she is about to turn the lights off and go to sleep. She moves quickly, and before Hecate even knows it, her body is sprawled across the couch, limbs twisted while her hands tatter the surface.

She tries her best to sound bothered, greeting Pippa with a slow hiss. 

“Hiccup, please.”

Her heart skips a beat.

“Hic...” The woman stops. “Darling?”

Getting leverage to sit up, Hecate crosses her legs and nods, as if Pippa is in the room with her.

“Yes?” 

The word, low and dragged out, shows to be enough to give Pippa the encouragement she needs to continue. When her voice comes, the tone is completely changed, giddy and sappy as if they were in high school again, braiding each other’s hair and talking about silly crushes. That seems so far away. For once, Hecate feels like a teenager again, one who just woke up on a chaotic future, an alternate timeline where her best friend has turned into a stranger who loathes her.

“Try to guess where I am.”

It’s good to hear Pippa like this, even though it hurts.

“A nightclub.” She states the obvious.

“But where, darling?”

Hecate frowns. She thinks about asking for a clue, but even then it sounds impossible to guess. The number of clubs she knows is very limited, and she doubts that they are the kind of places Pippa would casually visit.

“How would I know, Pippa?” She groans. “Is that what you want? To play games?” 

“I just wanted to talk to you.”

The cheerfulness is gone, and Hecate wonders if the longing on the woman’s voice is a product of her imagination. 

“But it’s different.” Pippa continues, sounding like she is talking to herself.

Hecate grabs her phone tighter, pushing her fingers against the edges until they hurt. Her mind is blank, the tension settling on her body and acting on it's own accord, saving her from pondering. 

“You aren’t... my Hiccup anymore.”

The air gets stuck in her lungs, but it takes time for her to realize. Hecate tells herself it doesn’t matter, that regardless of how Pippa feels about her, nothing is gonna change. She tries to believe that those painful feelings come from memories of a childhood she dearly misses, that her heart breaks for the happiness she no longer knows how to feel – but definitely not for Pippa. 

“Well, you are talking to me now. Is that all?” 

Pippa ignores her.

“Do you remember when we would skip curfew to practice outside?” She asks softly. “How on my first transference I ended up on Miss Darkland’s chambers and you had to snuck me out?”

Her lips curve into the smallest of smiles. 

“I remember.”

“Remember when we tried to collect our own ingredients?” She laughs. “How the bats chased after you?”

Pippa snickers.

“Good times.” 

A loud sound comes from her side. It’s clear, obviously close, and by the lack of response she gets from Pippa after that, she supposes she has fallen.

“… Pippa?”

The woman pretends nothing happened, filling her glass and allowing Hecate to hear the liquid making the way down her throat.

“Too bad you left me.” 

It’s a mutter and Hecate doesn’t really know if she is supposed to hear it. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, she offers silence, but Pippa refuses to stop, blurting out words that are barely coherent in midst of the noises of the nightclub.

“When I looked for you, your room was empty, your phone number didn’t even exist anymore.” She spits out, angrily. “You never answered my emails either.”

There’s a bitter laugh, and then she goes back to talking.

“Took a while, but I got the clue.”

Hecate takes in a sharp breath, but doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, maybe I’m bothering you again?” Pippa lets out a sound that's not quite a laugh. 

“Am I?”

“No.”

“Are you sure, Hecate?” Her voice cracks. There are sobs and fake laughter, and they clash in a rough mix. “Aren’t you gonna change numbers again?” 

The more she says, the more Hecate feels like smacking herself for not having realized how drunk Pippa truly is. The woman may be able to hold her alcohol, but as the emotion on her voice gets stronger, it’s easier to pick up the pauses and wobbly words, slipping out more and more as she drinks. 

“Maybe you should stop drinking.”

“Maybe you should stop me.” Her answer is as aggressive as the previous one. It’s getting harder to understand what Pippa is saying and Hecate dreads guessing how long it will be until she passes out. She unfolds her legs and rests her feet on the ground, getting to the edge of the couch.

“Is there anyone else there with you?”

“Yeah.” 

She feels herself relax.

“Good. Pass the phone to—”

“Just me, myself and I, darling.” She tells her eerily, as if her mind was miles away.

That’s all it takes for Hecate to jump off the couch and dart towards her bedroom. Crossing the kitchen, she starts to ditch her pajamas, balancing the phone between her shoulder and right cheek as she drops her shorts on the ground and kicks them away.

“Pippa, I’m not joking.”

“Ah, that’s too bad, Hiccup.”

She keeps from mentioning what Pippa said earlier about the nickname. As much as the temptation is there, time is running out.

“Where are you?”

Pippa hums, all too pleased by Hecate’s despair.

“Guess.”

Hecate is struggling to get into her pants, jumping and tugging at the jeans to get it to fit. With a groan, she pulls, one of her hands gripping the band while the other holds her cellphone.

“Pippa… ” She takes a deep breath. “Please, I need to know where you are.”

“Look at how the tables have turned, darling.” Her voice is getting shakier. “ Your turn to chase me now.” 

Squirming to get into her blouse without getting away from the phone, she pleads. Her voice is urgent, demanding, and there isn’t any softness on it, but she hopes Pippa recognizes it by what it is – a plea.

“Pippa, stop this nonsense, just…”

“You never took me seriously, did you?” She starts coughing, and the roughness on her own voice becomes a pained whine. “That’s why you left me.”

Fully clothed, Hecate rushes to get the car keys, resorting to her only and last trick.

“Pipsqueak...please, just tell me.”

Hecate plays with the keys in her hand, expecting a lash out that doesn’t come.

“You remember?” The woman appears surprised. Hecate is grateful for the lack of anger, but it makes her wonder about how Pippa might look back on their school days.

“Of course I do.” She answers, pouring as much tenderness in her voice as she manages to. Hecate tells herself she is doing no more than the necessary.

Before Pippa can think of becoming angry again, or worse, passing out, she gets to the point.

“Can you tell me where you are?”

“Are… are you coming?”

Hecate bites her lip in doubt. She is, but she doesn't know the right answer to make the woman talk.

“It’s… likely.” She rolls her eyes at her own resistance. “Yes.”

And Pippa tells her – words tangling together and voice going up and down, with an instability that isn’t entirely the alcohol's fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took longer than expected. I wasn't really sure whether I was going to continue or not.  
> I think this is the longest chapter until now, but I know they haven't had any proper interaction yet. When I tagged Slow Burn... I meant really slow.  
> It'd be nice to get some feedback, if you have any.  
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, see you on the next one.


	4. A Long Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecate finds the Nightclub. It all ends up being too much.

The music is not as loud as Hecate expected when she steps into the nightclub, which she takes as a good sign. The place is huge, with colorful lights sprinting around the room in a transfixing dance. There’s a touch of daintiness, but nothing over the top, blending elegance and mirth in a pleasant manner.

Pippa is easy to spot, sprawled on the bar counter, almost laying on top of it, saying something to the barmaid that has her rolling her eyes. Judging by the glass bottle on the woman’s hands, the one Pippa is attempting to reach for, Hecate would say she is refusing to sell her any more alcohol.

Just as the barkeeper walks away, Hecate approaches her as slowly as she can, sucking up the discomfort and trying to look unaffected by the looks she is getting from a nearby group of women.

“Pippa?”

She looks up, face flushed. There are tear trails marking her foundation and her eyeliner is smudged on the corners. As soon as Pippa sees Hecate, she sits up, appearing surprised.

“I thought you wouldn’t come.”

Hecate shoots Pippa a disproving glance, but doesn’t berate her.

“I told you I would.”

Upon realizing she is drawing unwanted attention by standing there, she sits down next to Pippa.

“You are not very good at keeping promises.” She sniggers. “Are you, Hecate?”

Her hand goes for her glass, but it grasps nothing. She looks at the counter and sighs, throwing her head back.

“Well…” Her voice is breathy. “I’m here.”

Pippa furrows her brows and Hecate can see the anger building up. Trying to avoid another outburst, she stands up, satisfied when Pippa’s eyes look for her.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive you home.”

The woman stays motionless, her face a mask of exasperation and disbelief.

“You think you can…” Pippa’s voice wavers. “Leave me, ignore me for years and… and then… “She is fuming, hands moving in all directions, fingers tense as they rip through the air. “Just come here… and take me?”

Hecate’s gulps, her throat getting drier.

“Pippa… please.” she exhales. Her tone is condescending, but she only becomes aware when it’s too late.

“Please?” Pippa crackles loudly, the sound clearly forced, leaning back on the counter.

“You hung up on me.”

Hecate is taken back.

“What...”

“You didn’t even care.” Her hands are back on the air. “I thought... I thought you had... left.” She tangles the strap of her purse on her wrist and Hecate can barely make out the mutter. “Again.”

She swallows, forcefully.

“I didn’t… I never hung up on you.”

“Never?” The woman laughs, head facing the ground.

“Not this time.”

Pippa seems unamused, doubtful. She watches Hecate, who struggles to keep eye contact, and her mind works to settle on a resolve.

“What happened then?” She blurts, not quite finishing her line of thought.

“I… I’m not sure.”

Before Pippa can go back to arguing, Hecate reaches out.

“Can I see your phone?”

Pippa doesn’t attempt to hide her mistrust.

“I’m trying to figure it out.” Hecate explains, trying not to fidget. “The call was cut and you didn’t respond when I tried to return.”

With a frown, Pippa puffs her cheeks, lifting her chin a little. She crosses her arms over her chest and scrunches up her face, staring defyingly at Hecate – or trying to, more or less resembling a child who just attempted eating something sour.

Hecate tries not to find it endearing.

Pippa hands her the phone, pouting, letting her fingertips linger on Hecate’s palm for longer than it’s appropriate and then reaching for the glass once more, even though it isn’t there. When Hecate presses the button, nothing happens. The screen stays black.

“Pippa, I can’t turn it on.” She looks at the woman, bitting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing at the bemused expression on Pippa’s face, who is now squeezing her eyes accusingly. “ I think the battery is dead.”

It takes a bit for it to sink. And then Pippa blinks, her mouth twitching.

“Didn’t you try to call me again?” Hecate tries.

The woman uncrosses her legs, shifting on the chair.

“I… thought you wouldn’t pick up.”

Hecate’s amusement dies, drowning on her guilt. She clears her throat and gives Pippa her phone back, retreating.

“Let’s go then.”

  
Instead of getting up, Pippa makes herself comfortable, turning to Hecate and lying back on the counter, brown eyes brimming with something similar to delight. It’s worrisome how her emotions can change so quickly, even taking alcohol into account.

Pippa shakes her head, spreading her legs and turning to the bar once more.

“Sit down.” She mumbles, folding her arms on the same spot her bottle was supposed to be.

Hecate hesitates, but takes a step forward and rests her hand on Pippa’s shoulder. It’s an old habit, one she should have forgotten by now. But Hecate is on edge, fretting over the woman before her with an intensity that overcomes her knack for reproaching herself.

She doesn’t want to think about how long Pippa will be able to keep herself conscious, or how she is going to take her home, since Hecate has no idea where Pippa lives, and her old friend doesn’t seem keen on giving proper answers.

She pushes her thoughts aside and decides to focus on the first task. One step at a time.

“Pippa, it’s time to go.”

Instead of getting up, Pippa leans her head against Hecate’s arm, clutching at the hand on her shoulder.

“Not yet.” She says, nuzzling her cold fingers, warming them up. Wisps of blonde hair tickle Hecate’s skin and she can feel the side of Pippa’s lips against her knuckles. The action is strangely comforting.

She is about to scold Pippa, when the woman turns her body to her, head going back and forth in a beat that seems entirely made up, mismatching the one in the background. Hecate reminds herself that she is speaking to someone too drunk to even remember her own loathing, and that’s enough for her to stifle the reprimand.

“I won’t drink with you.” She says plainly. To avoid a rebuttal, she adds “I’m driving.”

Her companion sulks and for a second, Hecate feels relief. It’s a passing feeling, one that barely lasts, and it’s over just as quickly as it came when Pippa pushes herself up and pulls the hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s dance, then.”

Suddenly, she is being dragged toward the dancefloor. She almost squeals, not anticipating it, but her lips close in a tight line. Pippa’s legs are unstable and she stumbles each time someone else gets on the way, but she still manages to dodge, holding Hecate’s hand tighter when she believes to be about to fall.

They get to the middle and Pippa stops with no warning, making Hecate slump against her back. She giggles, guiding Hecate’s arms to her waist and wrapping them around her, hips and shoulders swaying slowly as she throws her head back.

“That’s nice.” Pippa murmurs.

And in slow, mismatching swings, Hecate finds a kind of peace that she wishes she could bottle and stock up for the bad days. Even in her shaky and graceless dancing moves, Pippa’s presence soothes her, like it did many years ago. If she closes her eyes and stops resisting, it’s almost as if it’s alright. Their relationship, her life – everything is fine.

Something, a fragment of her that refuses to be aware, considers entertaining Pippa, letting her dance, giggle and believe that they are both on this together, until she burns herself out and lets Hecate take her home to sober up.

The sounds of the world around her drown in the distance, mingling with the self-awareness that is sure to come, that will sweep her off her feet and carry her in a wave of self-loathing, soon enough. Hecate closes her eyes and gets closer, cheek resting against the mass of blonde hair. She feels Pippa turn to her, feels her nose poke at her jawline, going lower and lower until she is shuddering.

Until soft lips are intentionally brushing against her neck and she is prying her arms away, stepping back as if the touch burns.

It happens too quickly. Before Pippa can react, she is tripping backward, Hecate’s sudden absence making her lose balance. She tries to stabilize herself, legs wagging and arms going up, but it proves to be useless.

The cold marble of the club’s dancefloor is closer than ever, but Hecate’s arms envelop her and pull her up before her body hits the ground, creating enough pressure to give the idea of a hug.

“We are going, Pippa.” Her voice is firm, detached.

Pippa is on her feet again, her brain too foggy to catch up, but she feels that the distance between them has gotten even bigger. Without a single glance, Hecate plants a solid hand on her back, guiding her as she moves across the room.

She pays for the drinks and moves to the exit, not uttering a word. Pippa opens her mouth, speeding the pace of her steps to get on Hecate’s side.

“Don’t.”

“But I didn’t do anything.” She whines, the words tangling up on her tongue.

Hecate walks quicker.

“Doesn’t matter.” She dismisses. “I’m taking you home. Stop the act and follow me to the car.”

Pippa struggles to keep up, her head spinning.

“The... act?”

She tugs at her shirt, taking advantage of the moment Hecate stops to turn her around and take her by the shoulders. Her eyes are piercing, aiming at Pippa with astonishment and wonder.

She dares to come closer, her hand creeping up to cup Hecate’s cheek.

They stay like this, in the middle of the pavement, unmoving. It’s only then that Pippa realizes they have left the club. She cracks a smile, foolishly expecting one in return. When she feels Hecate’s sharp nails scratch her knuckles, her own hands fall by her side and her smile turns sour.

“I won’t repeat myself.”

They walk in silence, the music and laughter far behind. Hecate doesn’t try to touch or look at her again, not even to make sure she is still there and Pippa regrets saying anything. Deep down, she has a faint idea regarding her reason for calling, but she isn’t drunk nor senseless enough to vocalize it.

It’s not her fist time getting wasted and Pippa is positive she can handle herself, even like this. And yet, she refuses to say where she lives when Hecate asks. There are groans, dirty looks and more arguing, but she plays the fool.

When Hecate gives up and declares they will be going to her house instead, Pippa doesn’t protest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this one.  
> It was supposed to be way longer, but I cut it in half. I ended up deleting the original file and having to start from scratch, but I didn't want to go too long without posting anything.  
> On the next one, there will finally be some actual talking.  
> See you then.  
> Suggestions are always welcome!


	5. Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippa spends the day at Hecate's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the commets, kudos and subscriptions.  
> This chapter is a bit different than the others.

Even before opening her eyes, Pippa feels the softness. From what she can tell she is sitting in a car – the sound of the engine is enough to give that up. The vehicle isn’t moving, and it’s hard to tell if it has just stopped or if it has yet to reach a destination.

Her head is leaning on something warm, but she isn’t sure exactly on what. It shifts and her face slips sideways, sharpness pressing against her cheek. When Hecate’s voice, sounding tired and muffled, makes itself known, Pippa realizes that she has been using her shoulder as a pillow.

She can feel the soreness on her neck, and she knows it will only get worse if she doesn’t straighten her back and start sitting properly now; but a chance like this one is not likely to appear for her again and so, she will enjoy what she can get.

Beside her, Hecate makes a disgruntled sound, and that's the encouragement she needs to start paying attention to her words.

“Don’t laugh.”

There’s a quiet noise that Pippa almost misses. Hecate threatens to hang up and it makes clear that she is talking on the phone.

“Dimity, she is unconscious.” She complains. “I don’t even know how I will take her up.”

The person she is talking to doesn’t seem to give her a suitable answer, if the twitch of her body and the affronted intonation on her voice are anything to go by.

“This is not funny!”

Pippa stifles a laugh, letting her lips curve and opening her eyes to take a peak. She stops listening after this, but the indignant expression on Hecate’s face and the way her skin glows under the dim light of the car keep her eyes open for longer that she will be able to remember in the morning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

With a yawn, Pippa rolls on the king-sized bed, squeezing her eyes together to block the sunlight. The sheets clump around her legs and it makes harder for her to get under them, but a little bit of persistence is all she needs.

Her head is throbbing and her mouth feels acid, drier than usual. There’s an ache on her stomach that makes her feels sick and Pippa is quick to kick the sheets away, untangling them from her feet and jumping out of bed to find the nearest bathroom.

It’s an automatic response. She covers her mouth and crosses the room with her head down. It’s only when her hand reaches for the doorknob and it falls on nothing, that Pippa realizes she is not in her room.

The woman uncovers her mouth slowly, testing to see if the nausea will come back. The room she is in seems familiar. Most of the walls are beige, except for one, painted black – completely devoid of any decoration, as if the mere color is enough. Shelves can be found on all the other walls, books pilling over them in a way that is all but organized, and that still doesn’t take away the harmony of the place.

That’s not really her style, but if this wasn’t the house of a stranger, Pippa wouldn’t mind living here.

Looking down, she sees the clothes she was wearing the previous night, the same pink dress – not as glorious as it was when she put it on, but still there. Her shoes seem long lost, nowhere in sight.

Pippa walks towards the door and pushes it open, gritting her teeth in frustration at the loud creak. A corridor leads her through a round of a few closed doors that she has no intention of opening, and then to a living-room, where a woman is seated on a chair with a fork in between her teeth and eyes looming over a book.

And Hecate’s presence not only startles her, but also bring back a flood of memories that fill her mind with dread and embarrassment.

Knowing that there’s no other way out, Pippa gets closer until she is close enough to hear the fork hitting the plate, and then clears her throat.

Hecate sets the book down and crams her neck to look at her, as collected as ever.

“I see you are awake.”

Pippa wants to shake her until Hecate drops the act. More than that, she wants the woman to stop treating her as a simple guest, someone she can gratify with a few uncaring words and a dismissing look that lets Pippa know just how irrelevant she is to her.

But the hard truth is, she can.

“Well, good morning.” Hecate says, almost sounding like a robot. “There’s food on the stove, if you want.”

Her stomach gives a pirouette and Pippa feels her mouth burn.

“No, thank you.”

She opens her mouth to ask Hecate for something, but her mind goes blank. Pippa tries to track the thought to bring it back, but Hecate beats her to it.

“Your purse and shoes are there.” She points to a spot near the front door with the fork, not bothering to turn her head.

The dismissal is clear. As much as Pippa wants to sit down and shower Hecate with questions, she knows she won't be getting answers today – if ever. She dares to hope that another opportunity will arise; but the logical part of her brain, the one not busy pinning over a woman who barely looks at her, knows this is probably the last time she is getting this close.

She takes a long look at Hecate’s back smoothes a hand over her dress, making an effort to believe she is actually ready for this – that this woman hasn’t been haunting her thoughts for the last five years.

“Thank you for—”

The words die on her mouth, and she covers it with both hands. Pippa tries to hold back, but an undignified sound slips out of her mouth and when Hecate finally looks at her, she feels her pride crumble.

“Bathroom.” She chokes out, with more desperation than she intends to.

Hecate gives her the directions and, still bending forward, Pippa runs. Pulling at the doorknob, she yanks the door open and pushes, crouching in front of the toilet as it hits the wall with a bang.

The taste is foul and the burning sensation seems to only get stronger, but once it starts to come out she has no power to stop.

The sound of quick, precise steps make her aware of Hecate, not too far from the bathroom – the one with the door she didn’t close. Pippa shuts her mouth and forces herself to keep it in, just for long enough to tell Hecate to go back to the living room and give her a bit of privacy – even though she is the one intruding.

“Hecate—”

Pippa’s plan backfires and she turns back to the toilet, one hand against its side and the other going around her own head to protect part of her hair from the damage.

She doesn’t finish the phrase, but expects the woman to get the clue and leave nonetheless. It’s mortifying when a pair of hands go around her head and collect the strands of hair stuck on her sweaty face, pulling them back and holding in place without giving her a word.

Face down, she closes her eyes and lets out a silent, imaginary scream. It’s all too embarrassing. First, calling Hecate to babble and whine, behaving like a demanding brat. Then, being taken to her house and occupying her bed after spilling more nonsense. And now, to top it off, puking in her toilet.

Just perfect, Hecate surely finds her charming now.

To make it even better, she chokes on her own vomit.

“Try to breathe.” Hecate instructs her, not showing a hint of disgust.“Don’t rush it, that will make it only worse.”

Pippa tries to nod. When she is sure it’s over, she rubs the back of her hand across her lips and pushes her shoulders back, as if it’s gonna help make her feel any less pathetic than she does.

When she faces Hecate, Pippa is ready to start a rant.

“I apologize, Miss Pen…” She gabbles. “Pippa. It was not my place, I shouldn’t have…” She pushes her knees up to stand, looking distraught. “I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy like that. And for that, I apologize.”

Hecate is out of the bathroom before she can give a reply.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
The third time Pippa wakes up, there’s no sunlight invading the room, and she thanks Hecate for that. The curtains don’t allow her to know whether it’s night or day, but as long as they keep the light from bothering her, she doesn’t mind.

Pippa hops out of bed and heads right to the kitchen, taking the empty bottle of water and taking it with her.

Hecate is on the couch this time, laying with her belly down and elbows supporting her head – eyes fixed on the same book as before. The image is so casual, so domestic that it makes her heart flutter.

She stares and, eventually, Hecate sees her.

The woman gets up and walks up to the fridge. Pippa tiptoes around the place, testing her footing and taking a moment to appreciate how everything in Hecate’s house fits together so well, resembling her old friend in the most subtle ways.

Not that they are still friends, but Pippa doesn’t want to think about that now.

“I don’t know what you like, so…” Hecate motions for her to get closer, moving her head towards the open fridge.

Pippa ends up with a huge piece of chocolate cake, getting disapproving looks from Hecate that she pretends not to see. The sit side by side on the couch and Hecate turns the tv on, handing her the remote control.

Part of her wants to break the tension, but doesn’t know how. The other part wants to resist, to draw the fight out of Hecate and argue until they are both done.

But after having her as babysitter and puking in her house, Pippa doesn’t think it’s appropriate to behave like that. And so, despite not forgiving her, nor forgetting what has been done, she tries to be accommodating.

“So, you still like chocolate cake.”

“Ah, yes. You still like donuts?”

It’s a cruel reminder of all the years of friendship that have been left behind, but Pippa doesn’t let it show.

“Pink ones are my favorites.”

The conversation is awkward, and neither of them is trying very hard to conceal their inability to communicate with each other, but it’s not as bad as she expected.

“Of course.” Hecate rolls her eyes without a drop of malice, almost warmly.

They seem to have settled on silence. Pippa doesn’t expect Hecate to say anything else, but she does, ripping their truce to shreds.

“I don’t mean to intrude, but going alone to a nightclub and drinking until you can barely keep it together is not proper behavior.”

She counts until five before answering, reminding herself of the last hours, of the pitiful state Hecate saw her in and how helpful she was, even when she didn’t have to. She also remembers her thoughts, the promise of politeness in her mind.

“I’m not trying to be rude, but…” She breathes deeply. “Hecate, that’s truly none of your business.”

It’s Hecate’s turn to sigh.

“Considering that you called me in the middle of the night, completely drunk, leaving me no other choice other than to go after you, then yes, Pippa. It absolutely is my business.”

Pippa clenches her teeth, glaring at her.

“You don’t have to worry about that, it won’t happen again.”

She puts the plate aside and crosses her arms, leaning back into the cushion, following Hecate’s movements with her eyes.

“Like it happened this time?” She lifts her eyebrows. “Because I very much doubt you had any intention of calling me, and still… here we are.”

Pippa wants to disagree, but she is not finished.

“How could you be so reckless, Pippa? Do you have an idea of what could have happened if I hadn’t found you?”

Pippa laughs.

“Oh, please, Hecate. Do you think I’ve never done this before?”

The pause that follows makes her question if there’s still any discussion going on.

“So it’s a habit of yours to wake up on other people’s beds?” She shakes her head subtly, more to herself than to Pippa.

“Look, Hecate, you have no right—”

“I’m merely looking out for your well being.” She insists.

“I don’t need you judging my choices.” Pippa’s voice gets louder. “You lost that privilege a long time ago.”

Hecate looks disconcerted. Pippa almost feels like taking it back. Almost.

“It’s not about judging.” Hecate assures her. Her voice becomes a bit more careful when she adds “That’s dangerous, Pippa. If you wish to sleep with unknown men, that’s hardly my concern.” Hecate’s face twitches. “But getting unconscious in the middle of a club is just reckless. I’m merely looking out for—”

“Oh, Hecate, please.” She mocks.

The woman uncrosses her legs and rests her hands on her knees with an air of strictness that Pippa would recognize anywhere. It brings back memories, but also gives her a warning she is grateful for.

“Women.” Pippa says.

Hecate deflates, a wave of confusion washing over her face, the incoming tirade forgotten. Wordlessly, she asks for an explanation.

“Unknown women.” Pippa picks up the fork to take one more bite. “Not men.”

She doesn’t know what to expect, and, in a way or another, nothing really comes from Hecate. Her eyes widen and her eyebrows get comically high, forehead tensing and fingers stretching out on her kneecaps, but there isn’t much besides that.

“Oh.”

It takes her a bit to recompose herself, but when the shock goes away, there’s a slight bow of her head she offers in recognition.

“I see.”

“But.” She continues, seeming a little out of it. “My point still remains. You should be more careful with alcohol. What happened yesterday only proves it.”

Pippa huffs, eyeing Hecate in that predatory way she is used to putting up in order to feel powerful. The woman’s eyes narrow, and her lips curl tightly.

“And how so?” With the sweetest voice, she asks. “I did what I always do. I may have gone a little overboard and called you, but as far as I know that was my only mistake.”

“Pippa—”

“I’m grateful for the concern.” She interrupts. “But your aid was not necessary.”

The coldness on her voice surprises even herself, and she feels pride bubbling up somewhere deep, in a well-hidden part of her subconscious. It may be foolish, childish even, but being able to talk to Hecate like that almost feels like payback – a kind of revenge Pippa didn’t know she needed.

“Ah, but it was.”

“I’m sure I—”

“You passed out on me, even before we reached the car.” Her voice lacks any contentment, but it’s not reproving either.

Hecate looks away, gluing her eyes to the movie they were pretending to be watching before falling back into arguing.

She frowns, looking at the piece of cake just as the nausea crawls back in. Pippa doesn’t put the plate aside, playing with the food and mindlessly spreading the crumbs over the surface to form random shapes, using it as an excuse to avoid looking at the other woman.

“That doesn’t usually happen.” She finally says, lifting her head. “Never happened before.”

Hecate raises an eyebrow.

“You have never passed out from alcohol intake then?”

“Regardless of what you might think of me, I’m not a fool.” She waits for Hecate to look at her again before continuing. “And I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I wouldn’t go around drinking without a care, and I can assure you that’s not what I did.”

“Do you think someone...”

Hecate doesn’t finish the sentence, she doesn’t have to.

“I think... yes. We can’t be sure, but that would make sense.”

The subject doesn’t come up again and Pippa tries to clear her mind, not wanting to imagine how the night might have turned out if it wasn’t for the impulse to call the woman who is currently sitting by her side.

Pippa can feel the awkwardness emanating from her, and she wants nothing more than to break the ice, to have a real conversation without bitter words or mockery.

It’s strange to think how someone has the power to play her like that, pulling Pippa in only to push her out, as soon as it’s convenient. But if anyone can do it, she is inclined to believe it’s Hecate Hardbroom.

The urge to close the gap seems to be the stronger one for now, but Pippa doesn’t know how long it will last.

“Did you carry me here?”

“...Yes. On my back.”

Pippa watches Hecate correct her posture, seeing a glint in her eyes that she knows all too well. The woman would never admit it, and that’s why she holds back the remark on the tip of her tongue.

Pippa decides to indulge her, to give Hecate what she wants – praise.

“That’s impressive. I didn’t know you were that strong.”

The pair of dark eyes soften, and Hecate has to bite the inside of her cheek to fight a smile. Pippa searches her mind for questions to ask, wondering if she can get Hecate to answer the one she has been meaning to mention since seeing her outside the art gallery, but fate seems to have other plans.

“Well, I—”

The doorbell rings. When Hecate gets up, Pippa does the same, carrying the plate to the sink.

She expects Hecate’s husband to appear, but the voice at the door tells a different story.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
  
The first thing Dimity does after walking through the door and seeing Pippa, is nudging Hecate on the ribs, looking up at her with a suggestive smile. Hecate groans, shoving her elbow aside with a scowl.

“Has been a while since I’ve seen you with someone.”

Then she turns to Pippa, adjusting the books under her arm.

“She must really like you to bring—”

“Dimity.” Hecate hisses.

Pippa looks between them, waiting for a cue. There’s a tone of urgency in Hecate’s voice, and it’s a bit higher than usual. She shakes her head, the movement so small that Pippa barely catches it, but when she sees understanding in Dimity’s face, Pippa knows the message has been sent.

“Ah.” Dimity looks stunned. Forcing out a laugh, she adds “I’m joking.”

Pippa doesn’t push it. Smiling politely, she extends her hand.

“I’m Pippa.”

She expects the woman to say something, to tell her how much Hecate has talked about her, about the old times. It’s not realistic, and Pippa knows it, but she hopes. Dimity merely says her own name and shakes her hand.

After that, Hecate pulls the woman to a corner to say something to her. A few words are exchanged, Dimity hands her a pile of books and she leaves the room to make a call. Pippa suspect she is taking the chance to avoid her, but says nothing.

When she returns to the couch, the same movie is still on. It seems to be about aliens, an invasion and... blood, probably – or something like that, she isn’t sure. Dimity takes her time exploring Hecate’s fridge, and sits next to her with a cup of yogurt.

She doesn’t try to hide her curiosity.

“So, how did you two meet?”

Pippa tells her. She talks about how they didn’t get along at first, how Hecate avoided her like the plague, laughing when she remembers the look of astonishment on the girl’s face after their teacher paired them together for a history project. Pippa doesn’t mention how she felt her interest grow to the point of surpassing friendship, nor how her friends pestered her to leave Hecate behind when it became obvious they were way too attached, but by the way Dimity is looking at her, she supposes she knows.

It takes all she has not to vent, to open up and tells Dimity everything. Wouldn’t be the first time she does that, but it never seems to be enough. And she would do it again, if she could be sure the woman wouldn’t go for Hecate and repeat Pippa’s words to her.

“You don’t seem to be on good terms.”

And that does it.

“She started ignoring me after graduation.”

Suddenly, she can’t stop talking – of all the missed calls that were never returned, the text messages, the e-mails, the visits and the stern look on she saw on Hecate’s aunt’s face each time she tried to visit. She almost tells her about the times she tried to get Hecate to talk to her when she left her house, but her brain has the decency to let her know how creepy it would sound.

Dimity listens, and it feels good to let it out. Pippa wonders how crazy she might sound, obsessing over a woman who hasn’t been on her life for so long, but when she looks at Dimity, there’s no judgment.

“You should ask her out.” She says, as if they were old friends, sitting in a bar to talk about life.

Pippa blinks.

“She... she is married!”

The woman smiles smugly, and Pippa knows she has walked right into a trap.

“So you would if she wasn’t?”

“Of course not, I don’t see Hecate that way.” She shrugs it off with a small smile of her own, trying to make her voice sound casual.

Her companion shoots her a look that says _yeah, sure_ and she shrinks on the couch, flipping the remote control between her fingers. Dimity comes and goes, sharing her time with both her and Hecate without bringing up what the other woman is doing – a call wouldn’t take that long.

She looks out the window and sees the darkness taking over the sky, deciding that, recovered or not, it’s time to go. Dimity offers her a lift and, not wanting to wait for a cab, she accepts the offer.

She tells Hecate goodbye, and gives Pippa a pressing look.

“I’ll go buy ice cream. Meet me at the reception when you finish!” Dimity declares, already walking out, not giving either of them a chance to oppose. Typical. If she didn’t know better, Pippa would think Dimity is trying to set them up.

Pippa is left alone with Hecate, who looks as stiff as a board. She isn’t entirely avoiding looking at Pippa like on the night of the art exposition, which probably counts for something, but it’s far from being what she wants. Pippa takes a step in her direction at the same time Hecate decides to stride forward, and both women stop.

Knowing that her options involve either taking the lead or waiting for Hecate the whole night, Pippa makes a move.

“Thank you for... everything.”

“You’re welcome."

“Hecate... I mean it.” She comes closer, but doesn’t touch her. “I don’t know what would have happened if you weren’t there.”

Hecate’s breath hitches, and Pippa nearly reaches out.

“I’m glad we don’t have to find out.”

“Yes... me too.”

She gathers her hands, joining the palms together.

“Goodbye then, Hecate.”

“Goodbye, Pippa.”

She gets her purse and throws the strap over her shoulder, fitting the shoe on her feet with ease. Pippa has her hand on the doorknob when it hits her that she may never have this chance again. It’s not something she hasn’t thought of, but to feel it when she is so close to letting the opportunity slip, makes her feel a kind of agony she isn’t used to experiencing.

And that’s what makes Pippa spin on her heels to face Hecate once more.

Without hesitation, she finally asks.

“Why did you leave me, all those years ago?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... the slowburn continues. I wanted to show the awkwardness between them, how conflicting their relationship is at this stage.  
> Not sure if I suceeded, nor if the chapter turned out good or bad (I can never tell).  
> Well, I hope you are liking the story so far! I'd love to know what you think about it.  
> See you on the next chapter.


End file.
